


My Boys

by Alleycatisdone



Series: My Boys AU [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: And Fluff and Angst and Hurt/Comfort and the Whole Shebang, Basically Strider Fucking Everything, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, It's Also Rambling, Strider Angst, Strider Feels, Strider Manpain, be prepared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 01:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1247809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alleycatisdone/pseuds/Alleycatisdone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have no idea what the fuck you are even doing anymore. You’re standing outside the door, <em>their</em> door, like an idiot and wow, you hope nobody calls the police on you because that would suck. </p><p>You know they’re all there because you’ve been following them ever since they won the Game. You’ve kept separate tabs on each of them and know what they’ve been up to, what they’ve done, what they ate for dinner last night (which was takeout, surprise surprise, you really need to get in there to fix their eating habits). It might just be on the south side of obsession, just a <em>tiny</em> bit but goddamnit, these are <em>your boys</em>. You’ve raised at least three of them, were the emotional comfort for two, and the last one… well, you never got to really interact with him but you were involved in his life, in all their lives. For better or for worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Quick Note so that you won't be confused in the beginning:
> 
> First/First One: Dave  
> First-One-And-A-Half: Dave and Dove  
> Red-First-One-And-A-Half: Dave  
> Orange-First-One-And-A-Half: Dove  
> First Ward: Bro  
> Second Ward: David
> 
> Dave is Dave.  
> Dove is Davesprite. I forgot to put this the first time I posted this but Dove's name was inspired by the multitudes of fanfics with the name 'Dove' in it, especially the [Happy Endings Verse.](http://archiveofourown.org/series/47394) (Also I love puns especially since in this situation it is especially... _punny._ *shot*(I literally laughed at that I'm such a dork. :P))  
>  Bro is Bro.  
> David is Alpha Dave, though when I originally posted this I had named him 'D' which is inspired by the fabulous [Strider Clan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/brotherfuckers/profile) fanfics. They also have a tumblr but I'm too lazy to link it. I changed it due to their wishes that people be more creative with their names for Bro and Alpha Dave.  
> Dirk is Dirk.  
> Lil Hal is Lil Hal.
> 
> These are all pretty self-explanatory. I still put them up for you. Feel loved. Looooooooved I say. Loved.

You have no idea what the fuck you are even doing anymore. You’re standing outside the door, _their_ door, like an idiot and wow, you hope nobody calls the police on you because that would suck. You don’t look like a creeper but people just keep on giving you these strange looks! You can see it in their eyes, the ‘what the fuck is that guy wearing?’, and you _really_ want it to stop.

But then again, you _really_ love these clothes so… let bygones be bygones.

But that still doesn’t fix your problem! You’re still standing outside their door and you really want to just go inside and see them and hug the shit out of them and _aaaaaaaaugh._

You know they’re all there because you’ve been following them ever since they won the Game. You’ve kept separate tabs on each of them and know what they’ve been up to, what they’ve done, what they ate for dinner last night (which was takeout, surprise surprise, you really need to get in there to fix their eating habits). It might just be on the south side of obsession, just a _tiny_ bit but goddamnit, these are _your boys_. You’ve raised at least three of them, were the emotional comfort for two, and the last one… well, you never got to really interact with him but you were involved in his life, in all their lives. For better or for worse.

(Except there’s the little fact that, you know, you were kinda the one that screwed them all over and wow you’re not going there today, thank you for coming depression and pussiness, please don’t come again.)

So here you are. Outside their door. Waiting.

What the fuck are you even waiting for? It’s not like they’re just going to open the door and accept you with open arms. Like, oh hi, I know you, you that one guy that fucked everything up and got us all killed but naw, don’t worry about that bro, that shit is chill _and why the hell is the door opening._

You abscond with a belly as yellow as Winnie-the-Pooh because that’s really the only yellow animal that comes to mind. That, and your first used to love watching that before he became… a teenager. Ugh. What you wouldn’t give to go back in time the way you are now and actually help raise him. But wait, now that your thinking about time shenanigans, you remember that your first has an ectoclone-brother-thing that is technically him but not him and you really can’t call him your first because his ectoclone-brother-thing is also your first and it really wouldn’t be fair and just overall shit. Maybe you could call them both your first-and-a-half or would that be too demoralizing? They are the same person but they’re _not_ and you really don’t want to upset them because, as you’ve said before, they’re _your boys._

Anyway, yeah, running away. Apparently, it’s a lot easier if you know how to flashstep because yeah, that’s a thing you’re doing. You make it to the end of the hall where you just turn the corner to the stairwell and stop, hugging the wall and praying they didn’t see you. You hear voices but can’t make out the words, and you can hear your first-and-a-half, the first-first-and-a-half or would it be the second-first-and-a-half or—you hear your red-first-and-a-half and your…what do you call someone who depends on you for emotional stability? Your ward? Yeah, you can hear your red-first-and-a-half and your first ward (thank fucking god that you don’t have to put up with any time bullshit with your wards, there is a first and there is a second and you don’t have to take into account any ectoclone-brother-things and just. Thank. Fucking. God.) but you can’t really make out what they’re saying. Oh well.

After you hear the door shut, you wait a few more heartbeats with your left cheek smooshed against the wall before you dare to look in their direction. There’s nobody there and, like the greatest spy ever, you scope out the place (look left and right and left and right and right and left and wait—shit). You timidly start back down the hall and raise your hand to knock on the door when fear strikes you again. You don’t want your boys to hate you but you really want to see them and why is this so hard. You don’t really get an answer to that as the door opens right that fucking moment.

Your first ward stands there and you’ve never seen him look so tired in your entire existence. He has this slump in his shoulders that wasn’t there before and a bout of pure rage, the need to _killkillkill_ whatever caused this, to destroy it completely and then take him in your arms and calm him down like you used to, even if he didn’t know it. But you can’t, because that's what the Game did and you kinda helped set the ball in motion and now you’re really really _really_ hating on yourself right now because _your boys._

You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of saying that.

Right now, though, one of your boys is just staring at you and your just staring at him and you should really say something whoops. You clear your throat and give what you think must be a good smile (please don’t look nervous, please don’t look nervous, please don’t look nervous) before you open your mouth to say something.

He beats you to it. “We’re not buying anything.”

You know he didn’t mean it, wouldn’t mean it if he knew who you were (probably), but it still cuts straight to your heart and crushes you. Sure, you did kinda change (you mean, you’re now an actual living breathing being, not just a hunk of wood with a soul) and maybe the hoodie you grabbed earlier (yeah, fuck bygones, you really don’t like their stares) is hiding what would have probably have identified you but still. It _hurts_.

You mouth opens and closes a few times, fighting back tears because one of your boys, _your boys_ , doesn’t recognize you and you really need your own support right now. You think he realizes this because he immediately backs up with his hands raised in the universal ‘calm the fuck down’ position and you’re trying not to laugh at the same time you’re trying not to cry.

Meeting your boys again is _hard._

“Woah, man, stop the fucking waterworks, that is not a thing that needs to happen,” he says in his own socially-awkward way that is part comforting, part hilarious, and part freaked the hell out. You can’t help the slight grin that makes its way to your lips, even if it is a bit sad.

“I’m fine,” you croak out, voice cracking a bit and he doesn’t look like he believes you but he lets it be. At least he knows how to let bygones be bygones. You hope.

Actually, no, it seems he doesn’t because he opens his mouth again, probably to ask you ‘what the hell was that about’, but your red-first-and-a-half interrupts him first.

“Who the hell are you?” your red-first-and-a-half demands (not asks, not at all), his brows drawn together and his lips pursed in this half-duck face and you actually laugh this time. Tears stream down your face as you laugh, maybe a bit hysterically, and by the time you’ve regained your breath, the others have all slithered out of their holes to come see what all the noise is about. And maybe because your laugh is a bit weird and a whole lot of loud.

You look at their faces and you can see some of them have this vague recognition on their faces, some of them have completely blank looks, and the one that pleases you the most but also hurts you the most is the horrified look on your orange-first-and-a-half. He’s gaping at you and you know he knows that he knows who you are and you wonder if that’s how you looked earlier, only without the whole emo-woe-is-me expression and more of a terrified-out-of-my-mind one.

And, okay, yeah, you’re not going to lie, it hurts like a bitch that he’s looking at you like that but you’ll take what you got. What you got is a few more moments of silence after your hyena laughter dies away and a whole minute of awkward silence before

“Oh my god.”

You go off again at that.

“HAA HAA HEE HEE HOO HOO!”

“No, no, not this again, Jesus fucking Christ.”

“HOO HOO HEE HEE HAA HAA!”

“No, no, noooooooo, why does this always happen to me?”

You’re calming down now and okay, maybe your laugh is more than a bit weird, but gosh dang, you really do love your boys and their silly reactions. Even if they may not be the most positive and you are just really set on upsetting yourself today, aren’t you.

You smile at him and walk towards him, ignoring the others who have instantly stiffened at your intrusion. You can tell he’s getting flustered and doesn’t know whether to run or not but now he’s ensnared in your hug, he ain’t getting out. Ever.

It’s kinda cute that he doesn’t know what to do in an outsider-looking-in-point-of-view but the thing is, you’re not an outsider and it still kinda hurts that he probably isn’t thinking of hugging you back. It’s still as cute as shit though. It reminds you of when he was that boy who was thirteen, just going on fourteen, and when he was that boy who was Dave but also a bird and also not Dave at the same time but wanted to be Dave but couldn’t be and yep, the feels are rushing towards you, about to drown you in them.

The feeeeeeeels.

Your voice is quiet as you whisper, “I missed you,” into his ear. You raise it, though, to address all of the little fuckers, “I missed all of you.” You sniffle a bit and you can tell that you’ve definitely thrown the others for a loop because here’s this crazy person, showing up on their doorstep and bawling his eyes out over them, even though they all don’t know him except for Dove. Except they do know you. Sorta. It’s complicated.

“Are you going to tell us who the fuck you are or not?” your—okay, yeah, this is getting kinda old and really lengthy, even in your head, you’re just going to use their real names now (shh, you totally did not just did that a moment ago, that was your imagination)—Hal says in a reasonable tone. He probably is the most reasonable out of the bunch right now anyways.

You give them a soft smirk and gently ruffle Dove’s hair before returning to the problem at hand. Okay, you can do this, you haven’t revealed yourself yet now, you can do this Cal, wait, shit—well, it was in your head anyway, it’s not like it was an ambiguous thing since the beginning of this whole mess.

Then the little shit under your hand squirms and lets out a protest consisting of, “No Cal, don’t fuck with hair, noooo. Just. No.”

Well, if they don’t realize who you are now you’re going to be wondering your whole life if you should have stopped the vast number of strifes they’ve been through. You blink at the thought when it occurs to you that the number is a lot. A whole lot. A whole fucking lot. You’re just going to… forget the thought ever existed. Yeah, this is how you earn the parenting of the year award.

Opps, seems you’ve been you’ve been staring off into space too long because now they’re staring at you staring off into space. Dove has this mix between exasperation and a bit of panic at how close you are (what is a your heart anymore, you don’t even know). Dave has taken one step, two steps, three steps back and you think he might legitimately have a panic attack. Bro has intense look of confusion, open mouth and drawn brows and everything, just like earlier. Dirk and Hal have twin (my god, how would they react to that?) looks of ‘what the fuck’, though Hal’s is more curious if anything. Then again, he was also an inanimate object that was brought to life by the Game so you think he understands a bit more. On the other hand, he was also part of sprite (so were you, kinda, sorta, well, not really. it’s all timeline bullshit anyway.) so he may not understand at all. David rounds the whole thing out with this ‘I-have-no-idea-what’s-going-on-but-it-looks-interesting’ look.

All in all, this was better than you expected. Four out of six Striders are not looking at you with hate, disgust, or absolute terror. Go you.

“Cal?” Bro asks, and you get the feeling that you are either going to lift the weight on his shoulders or just increase it ten times more. “Cal… how?”

“The Game,” you say and that’s all that really needs to be said. The others nod in agreement, or really, reluctant agreement. It’s hard and nobody quite understands why but that’s okay.

You (finally) let go of Dove (and ignore the little sigh of relief he gives) and hold your arms out to Bro, letting him decide the final verdict for himself. He hesitates for a moment and your heart plummets to the bottom of your soles until he gives a little huff and gives you a fierce bear hug that would definitely put bears to shame. You don’t care about that though, you don’t care that he may be squeezing you a bit too hard or that you’re losing oxygen very rapidly because he needs you to anchor him, to be his rock, he just needs you. One of your boys needs you.

After a few good minutes of you two just hugging, you rubbing circles onto his back a few times, he pulls back and straightens up. You smile at him, which he returns in a more snarky asshole-ish way but you wouldn’t expect anything less, before turning your attention to the others.

“Single file please,” you chirp, holding out your arms to be filled with more Strider angst. You are the absolute best cuddlemaster. It is you.

Predictably, it is Dirk and Hal that approaches you next. You hide the hurt of seeing the others be so skittish around you and just envelope the two you have right now in your arms. You think their uncomfortable but that’s okay. You’re going to help them get used to it. You going to help your boys and see your boys and be with your boys for real, as someone they can talk to and be able to respond, be truly alive for once and nobody will take that away. Nobody.

They begin to pull away but not before you’re able to give them both a quick peck on the cheek. They both freeze for a second and you can just see the ‘Error. Error. Does not compute.’ in their shaded eyes. You squash your laughter before it escapes you, though, and turn to the most emotionally constipated members of the family.

Dave still has a deer in the headlights look going on, Dove looks uneasy, and David just has a look on his face that screams, ‘whut?’ Oh geez.

You move towards David first because he is likely going to be the easiest to work with. He still has no idea what is going on but you don’t really blame him. He probably doesn’t even remember you, seeing as he bought you for Dirk near the end of the whole Hollywood shebang. (Which ended in his death and here comes the killer rage, conceal, don’t feel, how the fuck do you do it Elsa?) You remember though and you were there for him those last few weeks, helping him get through the nights, even if he doesn’t count a puppet snuggling up to him in his sleep a comfort.

Instead of a hug this time, you go for a simple pat on the head. It becomes less simple when it requires you to stretch on your toes (why is he so tall why) to reach his head but it’s the thought that counts. You beam at him and yeah, that a smirk on his face.

“You’ve done well,” you say and woah. Hug attack. You can roll with this.

You go similar motions like with Bro earlier. Only you know he’s shaking slightly, so slightly that it’s barely there but it’s still there. You get it, he’s the one who knows the least, seen the least, been the least. But he’s broken, just like all of them, and he died too fast, too quick, too soon. They all died too fast, too quick, too soon and it’s all partly your fault but you try not to think about that. You’ll stay angry at the Game and the end bosses and continue to be ignorant.

(Except you’re not really that ignorant.)

David disentangles himself from you and now you have his two minime’s to contend with. You approach them like they’re injured animals backed into a corner. You guess, in a way, they are. (And it’s all your fault, your fault, YOUR FAULT.) Dove seems to be the most responsive and holds out a fist with as stoic a face as he can manage, nodding towards you. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at him and let him off easy since you already hugged him earlier, though you do get a sneaky kiss on the cheek in.

Now onto Dave. You don’t want to call any of your boys a problem child but with the way Dave is acting now… Sheesh. He’s literally backed himself into a corner now and you have to pull out the big guns. With no warning, you pouncetackle him and immediately start tickling his sides. He lets out a indignant squawk (you are not dwelling on the ironies in that sentence, nope, not at all) and begins flapping his hands around, trying not to laugh. His face goes completely red and he gives this sort of gasp-snort and you need a picture of this adorableness right now. You would look at it every second of the day and save it as your wallpaper and brag to strangers about how absolutely adorable one of your kids is.

You relent when he starts to wheeze and sit back to watch him regain his breathe. He lays on the ground, completely winded, and it looks like he won’t be getting up anytime soon. His chest is moving up and down erratically, after giggles still bubbling up every now and then, and the biggest grin you have ever seen is stretched across his face. Your own grin grows bigger and you reach down to place a kiss on his forehead. He is technically the ‘baby’ of the family, being the youngest and all. (And no, Hal does not count since Hal was an AI and don’t be so insensitive.)

He tenses up for a second and you can see his eyes up this close, full blown with fear, a tinge of pain, and maybe just a tiny bit of longing. You know the Striders are not a touchy feely bunch so you are basically pioneering history right here. If Dave wants hugs and kisses, you will give him hugs and kisses.

Moments later, though, the tension flows out of his body and his grin shifts from ‘high-as-fuck’ looking to ‘thank-you-for-being-there-and-not-creeping-me-the-fuck-out.’ This is the biggest milestone in all of Strider history and you feel as though you have past all the echeladders of ‘best-not-quite-guardian-but-pretty-damn-close.’

You would savor the moment for a bit longer, talk to your boys, get caught up in all the madness, but your phone (which you had bought just the other day) rings to remind you to get your butt to work. You groan and excuse yourself, promising to be back for dinner because goddamn, they are _not_ having takeout again. No just… NO.

You walk away with a skip in your step, humming to yourself as you make your way to the soul-sucking thing people called jobs. Okay, maybe your job isn’t so bad, it’s just a small coffee shop in the middle of Houston and though you’re rather surprised they gave you the job, you are grateful nonetheless. Traffic is a bitch though.

You get off work an hour before dinner must be made and snag some ingredients on the way home. You carry the laden grocery bags through the apartments and into the elevator, ignoring the glances cast your way. You’re just going home to your boys.

You nearly drop the bags in the elevator as the thought ripples through your mind, scaring the poor old lady who lives on the floor right under you. She gives you a strange look as she hustles out but you don’t really process it because. Wow. You’re going home to your boys.

You’re going _home_ to _your boys._

You have never been happier to say the words, “I’m home,” for the first time as your boys swarm around you in search of sustenance.

Because for the first time in your life, you have everyone you ever need, you are in the place you want to be, and everything is alright. You’re home and you have your boys.

_My boys, my boys, my boys._

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if it was rambling at some parts but I just really wanted to write this fic. It is inspired by the fact that Cal did, in fact, help raise Dave and practically did raise Dirk. He was also an emotional support for Bro or that's how he is in my head anyways. Also, I'm pretty sure David knows who Cal is since he put all that stuff in Dirk's room. So yeah.
> 
> (It's also because of all the hot human Cals but shoosh you didn't hear anything.)
> 
> I tried to mix Cal's personality to be a bit of all the Striders plus some added dorkiness because really. How can you not imagine a magical-puppet-thing-turned-human to be a bit of dork? (Everyone is, everyone is. Only dorks now.) Also, some Cal Angst about how he kinda helped set a lot of things in motion (his ectoslime stuff was used to make Doc Scratch's body, and the Doc was the one behind a lot of bad shit, okay). Because there is not enough of this in the world.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and I might make another one. Maybe I'll do a Dave POV or something.


End file.
